


i float on an ocean

by loveglasses



Series: write it all away [1]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, F/F, McNamara centric, Movie References, Musical References, Notes, Very angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:59:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16231880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveglasses/pseuds/loveglasses
Summary: heather writes her pain, her tears, and her urges into this one note. it's all she can do.





	i float on an ocean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [@gten11](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=%40gten11).



> so! this is going to be very angsty. (gosh, i do love writing angsty things with heather mcnamara in them, don't i? i need to stop)  
> much curse many curse like usual
> 
> this is for my girlfriend, mac. i love her so, very much. anyone can read it, however!

Heather grabs a pen. It's all she can do for today. For right now. She rips out a piece of paper from a notepad that her dad uses for work, and that she could "never use." She doesn't care. She can't care. After all, they abandoned her. It's only fair. It really is only fair. How did her dad respect her things after all? Did he? No. He didn't respect her space. So, fuck him. Fuck everything that went wrong.

_You may think that I'm a young teenager who just is doing this for attention. Who's faking this note, and joking. But I'm not. I'm Heather McNamara, the captain of the cheerleading team who hasn't even done that well. Who's not that good at what she does. Who probably would be replaced at the first chance of her doing something wrong._

_This isn't a suicide note. If this were a suicide note, this would be seen. I'd also do it by the person so that each person knows what they have to know. However, no, this is a note that I will tear and rip apart once I am done, That I might just put down the shredder, and watch as it gets ripped apart, shred by shred. Kind of like my life. You know?_

_I don't like myself. I'm too shy, too unwilling, too imperfect for everyone around me. I'm dumb, and I'm failing math to prove it. It's not that it's too hard. It's just that I'm too stupid. Heather isn't failing it. Why am I? Only one explanation. Cause I'm too stupid. My parents don't love each other, and they sure as hell don't love me. My mom just pays child support so she doesn't go to jail. Well, I think that's what happens. I haven't seen her since Dad and her have divorced._

Heather wanted to rip the paper apart already. She didn't want to finish writing this. She shouldn't have to. But she needs to. For the sake of her sanity. For the sake of pretending everything can be alright again, except it's going to be more alright than before. Because at least something's heard, in a way.

_I feel like I'm floating in an ocean on an overcrowded lifeboat. People are screaming, yelling, nearly capsizing because of the extra weight. But I'm just the extra weight. So, my stuff and I should just sink into the large, deep ocean._

_Not only am I just extra weight, I'm the least important of the Heathers. Heather Chandler's the leader, Heather Duke's her assistant, and Veronica's the smart one. I'm just there. Heather McNamara, no job description. Nothing. Just the girl you want to invite to all of your parties to fuck her. Right? The girl who comes with the set. You didn't want her, but she came with the set anyways. What I said was right. I'm sure of that._

Heather digs the pen into the paper, conveying her pain into the paper. When she lifts it up, there's a hole. Somehow, she feels lighter. Not just her head or her heart. Her entire body is just so much lighter than before. It's comforting, not feeling the weight of the world anymore. But she still has more to talk about. Well, write about. Pretty much the same thing, right? So she does. She writes more.

_What I hate most about myself is that I love all of my friends. Not in a typical friend way. I love them as I should love boys. Not only are my best friends all girls, but they're also multiple girls. I just feel so guilty and damn selfish for loving all three of them. But there's something curious about them that attracts me to them. They're just so mysterious. I just want to see their real selves, underneath that exterior they all present. Maybe I should do that, too. I want to see them like they truly are. Vulnerable. Real. True. I love them because they are them. They have been with me, even in my worst moments, I guess. But I hate myself for it because the Heathers have to stay solid Teflon. They can't change into anything else just for the sake of love. In fact, Heathers don't fall in love. They have "dates," which are basically hookups for the night. Or weekend. Or week. But they're always with boys. And I don't like boys. They're too weird, too sleazy, and just all around creepy. But anyways, the other Heathers (+ Veronica) don't do what I do. So maybe I'm not a Heather. Maybe I'm a nobody bitch who just should fucking die already. Or maybe not._

_Maybe there's some purpose in my life. Maybe I was put here for a reason. I don't know, but I hope that I'll know soon. I need to know soon enough._

_\- heather mcnamara_

 She considers this for a moment. She decides to add a postscript. Why not? She had gone this far to write a note that she'd soon rip apart, or shred in the shredder. She hadn't quite decided on that yet.

_P.S. I guess in this part I'll be happy. Heather Chandler's fine with me holding her arm. Maybe I can hold her hand soon. It kind of looks like Heather Duke's checking me out. Maybe we can look at each other like that soon. And Veronica? She makes me laugh. I hope that she can kiss me while we're laughing someday. Fantasizing makes me happy. Real happy. Everything makes me feel really happy with them. Maybe I shouldn't feel worthless when  I say I love them. After all, they give me a reason to love them, right? I think so._

Heather smiles and rips off the postscript. She then goes down the stairs carrying the rest of the letter, thumping her feet at every step. She goes into her dad's office and shreds the rest of the letter. She then runs back upstairs, since she doesn't have socks on and she shouldn't fall down. She hangs up the postscript at her desk. She steps back to admire her handiwork. 

Maybe life is good after all. It's not the best it's ever been, but it's not terrible.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!  
> this was kind of a vent fic, as well as a fic that i know my girlfriend will relate and i don't want her to really get sad.  
> i don't know. anyways, have a great day!


End file.
